


Two Seekers, One Prime

by HiddenDirector



Category: Transformers - All Media Types, Transformers Animated (2007)
Genre: Awkward Seduction, Fingering, M/M, Sexual Humor, Spike and Valve, Twincest
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-11-18
Updated: 2018-02-03
Packaged: 2018-08-31 16:09:42
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 7,163
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8585107
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/HiddenDirector/pseuds/HiddenDirector
Summary: After a fight over who Sentinel Prime likes more, the Jettwins decide to have a contest.  Whoever can seduce their illustrious, large-chinned Prime first is the winner.Too bad neither of them actually knows anything about seduction.





	1. Prologue - The Challenge

**Author's Note:**

  * For [V-bird](https://archiveofourown.org/gifts?recipient=V-bird).



> This is written as a request for V-bird. I was originally going to have it be one-shot, but like with a lot of my fanfics it expanded and will now encompass five chapters. Except for this chapter, the prologue, every chapter will contain good ol' robot porn of the Spike and Valve variety. Enjoy.

It had started out innocently enough.  Admiration, mostly.

Jetfire and Jetstorm, known commonly throughout the Autobot Elite Guard as the Jettwins, thought only the highest of Sentinel Prime.  The blue and yellow mech was strong, confident, and commanding.  Everything they wanted to be.  Sure, he could be hard on them, but only because he expected nothing but the best.  He wouldn’t push them so hard if he didn’t sincerely think they were capable of it.

Soon after, admiration evolved into fascination.

The Jettwins began observing everything Sentinel would do.  Sometimes they would even try to mimic it, much to the chagrin of many.  They didn’t understand why most of the Elite Guard seemed to… _dislike_ Sentinel Prime.  Was he not a living representation of everything they stood for?  They’d asked Jazz about it, once.  His answer had been… less than helpful.

“S.P. means well, but… he’s not exactly the… uh… easiest mech to jive with, ya dig?”

They didn’t ‘dig.’  They weren’t even sure what it meant to ‘jive,’ though that was quite normal for them.  Jazz had a funny way of speaking that they couldn’t seem to decipher the largest bulk of the time.  Whatever it meant, though, they knew he wasn’t speaking highly of their Prime.  They were again confused.  After all, Jazz was on Sentinel’s team as well.  Didn’t that mean he had to see all of the good in the large-chinned mech?

After that fascination had turned to infatuation.

It’d been after a grueling solar of training exercises that it became apparent.  Sentinel Prime had seemed particularly harsh that solar, barking orders and picking apart even the smallest mistakes.  One accident with Jetstorm’s wind turbines had him ordering them to fly laps around the city until he was satisfied their pent-up energies had been expended.  This left the two fliers collapsing onto the berth in their quarters in exhaustion.

After a few cycles of lying in the darkness, slowly but surely relaxing, Jetfire finally punched his brother in the arm.

“Ow!  What is that being for?” Jetstorm snapped, rubbing the spot and glaring back.

“You are making Sentinel Prime, sir, angry!” Jetfire huffed, folding his arms across his chestplate and lying on his back.  “This is why I am being his favorite.  He is liking of me more.”

Jetstorm snorted, mirroring the pose on his side of the berth.  “You are wishing.  Just because I am making the mistake, meaning not that he is liking of you.  Training is more serious business for me.  You are doing the goofing-of-off too much.  If you were not, you would have been blocking the wind on time.”

“Your aim is being off!  I could not be blocking something that was not coming at me!”

“Excuses.  You should have blocked.  This is why Sentinel Prime, sir, is liking of _me_ more.”

Jetfire sat up and glared at his brother in the dark.  “Sentinel Prime, sir, is liking of _me_!”

Jetstorm joined him, leaning towards him.  “No, he is liking of me!”

The Jettwins stared each other down, the glowing of orange optics and a blue visor the only source of light.

Finally, Jetfire said, “A contest.  We should be proving which of us he is liking of more.”

“Is sounding good.  But how do we proving it?” Jetstorm asked, finally looking away from his orange and white brother and thinking.

“Hmm…” the other joined him in it, tapping his own knee absently.  They couldn’t just ask the Prime.  No, he wasn’t the type of mech to admit such things.  He would most likely yell at them for wasting his time, then make them fly more laps.

No, they had to be subtle about this.  He was a mech of pride.  Dignity.  They’d sooner be able to seduce him than make him confess to such a thing as playing favorites.

Wait…

As the thought travelled between their twin-bonded psyches, Jetfire and Jetstorm looked up at each other in united surprise yet excitement.  The idea of being able to fall into berth with their illustrious Prime.  To feel his servos upon them, mapping out every nook and cranny of their chassis.

“Could…” Jetfire started but hesitated, his own servos travelling unconsciously up his leg.  Heat built quickly in his interface panel at the thought of Sentinel Prime, the mech that had enthralled them, spreading him wide and fragging his warming valve.  “Could we possibly be doing such a thing…?”

Jetstorm’s panel mirrored the heat building in his brother’s, licking his lip components and smiling mischievously in the dim light of his visor.  “I am not knowing about ‘ _we_ ’,” he teased, leaning forward so their faceplates were mere inches away.  “But I know that _I_ will be able to be doing it easy.  Like I said, he is liking of me more.  Sentinel Prime, sir, will not resisting me.”

At the words Jetfire set his jaw, looking determined.  “Fine.  Whoever is doing the seducing of Sentinel Prime, sir.  They will be the winner.”

“What is the prize being?”

“We are to be Sentinel Prime, sir’s, bonded, of course,” the fire-based flier said as if it were the most obvious of answers.

“Ah, is making sense,” the blue and gold twin replied thoughtfully.  “We will have already done the interfacing with him, so is only natural progression.”  He held out a hand to his brother.  “We are agreeing on terms, yes?”

“Yes.  First to seduce Sentinel Prime, sir, will be winner.”

“May the best flier win.”


	2. Jetstorm Tries the Direct Route

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jetstorm tries to be direct about his seduction.

Sentinel was a busy mech.  He didn’t care what those snooty, holier-than-thou council members thought of what he did with his time, though he heard them speak behind his back.  They thought he spent it twiddling his servos in his office and patting himself on the back for any tiny achievement.  While he did deserve praise for his work with the Elite Guard, he didn’t think the sun shined out of his tailpipe nearly as much as everyone seemed to think he did.  He took his time to make sure everything was done right.  Not a semicolon misplaced in his paperwork, nor a diode out of place in his own systems.  Doing everything by the book, doing it by the rules, that was important.  It wasn’t his fault the Autobot Council was still stuck in the mentality of the Great War that had led to them thinking that rules and regulations could be broken willy-nilly as long as it was for the ‘greater good.’  No, he’d do it right.

Besides, Ultra Magnus trusted him, and that was the only opinion Sentinel ever cared about.  If he ever wanted to make it to that illustrious position of power, he had to do everything he could to live up to Ultra Magnus’s impossibly high standards.  He wouldn’t let anyone else, especially a nobody like Optimus nor a glory-hound like Rodimus, stand in his way.  Those two didn’t stand a chance against him anyway.  If the Magnus trusted them half as much as he did Sentinel Prime he would’ve let one of them train and mold the Jettwins, the Autobot Elite Guard’s very own pair of living weapons.

But no, that was his duty.  His privilege.

His torturous, Primus-forsaken privilege.

That wasn’t to be taken wrong.  Sentinel liked them well enough, even if they had to grow on him at first.  They were young, enthusiastic.  They truly wanted to live up to the name of Elite Guard, and respected him far more than anyone else on this planet seemed to.  They still had a long way to go, but that was only to be expected.  Despite what the Council seemed to think (he knew they whispered that he couldn’t seem to reign in the twins, taking his sweet time helping them get ahold of their powers), he was doing this as he did everything.  He was taking his time to make sure it was done _right_.  He was a drill sergeant long before he was a Prime, after all.  He knew how much time whipping overly-energetic, inexperienced young bots into fighting order took.

A knock on the door to his office drew Sentinel out of his thoughts and paperwork.  “Who is it?” he called.  He didn’t want to deal with 99% of the population of Cybertron at that klik, and if this was one of them he’d send them away.

“Is being Jetstorm, Sentinel Prime, sir.”  The heavy accent behind the words carried through the door, confirming that it was indeed one of the twins.  After all, no matter how many bots tried out of novelty, no one could mimic that exact strange pattern of speech the two young mechs spoke with.

“Come in,” Sentinel answered, shoving his paperwork to the side.  The members of his team were those 1% he didn’t mind interacting with right then.  At least they treated him with the respect he deserved.  Jazz was starting to wane a bit on that lately, though.  He made a mental note to have a talk with the white and black mech’s developing tendency towards borderline insubordination.

The door slid open and the blue and yellow flier walked in, pressing the button to close the door behind him.  He paused a moment as soon as it was closed, as if hesitating about something, and Sentinel raised an optic ridge.

“Something you want to talk to me about, soldier?” the Prime asked as Jetstorm didn’t move from that spot for a few kliks.  It took him a moment to realize how strange it felt to be looking at one twin without the other.  He’d actually never seen them apart from each other before.

Jetstorm turned quickly, acting startled by the question.  His usual confidence and boastful attitude seemed to suddenly melt away in an instant, and he didn’t look very sure himself what he was doing there.  “Oh, uh…” he stuttered out, moving towards the desk awkwardly.  He vented inwards deeply and tried to at least put on a show of confidence as he got closer.  “I wanted to be… asking you the question, sir.”

Sentinel waited a moment for him to continue.  It became obvious that he was waiting in turn to be given permission and Sentinel did his best not to exvent in frustration.  As much as he liked being given his well-deserved respect, sometimes it felt like the twins wouldn’t function without him.  “Well, what is it?” he asked with a bit less patience than he was hoping for.

Jetstorm flinched a bit at it, and started playing with his servos.  All pretense of bravado had been quickly extinguished by that snap, apparently.  “Well, I-I… I am just being…”  He let out the frustrated exvent Sentinel had held in, turning to face the opposite direction.  “This was being so much easier in head…” he muttered to himself.

“What was that?” Sentinel asked, leaning forward to be able to hear him.

Jetstorm took a much deeper vent in this time and whipped around, leaning forward on the desk on his side.  His faceplate as a result ended up being only inches away from his commander’s.  “Sentinel Prime, sir, I wanted to be asking… are you having the bondmate?” he finally managed.

Sentinel faulted at the unexpected, and very personal, question.  “I… what?  What the pit do you need to know that for?” he asked in shock.

The flier covered his faceplate with a hand, leaning back again.  His other arm crossed over his chestplate, hand resting on his waist as his faceplate started to burn with embarrassment.  “I… I am… needing the advice.”

“Advice?” the Prime tilted his helm to the side a moment.  His optics then lit up with realization.  “Oooh, I get it,” he said, unable to hide the grin starting to creep up on him.  “You like someone, don’t you?”

Jetstorm’s helm left his servos, looking at him in surprise.  After another hesitation, he finally said, “Yes!  I am liking someone very much.  He is not noticing, though.  I am wanting the advice on… on how to get him to be noticing me.”

Sentinel leaned back in his seat, folding his servos together.  “Well, soldier, you came to the right place.  I’m not bonded, no, but I do know a lot about relationships.  I’ve been in my fair share of them, though most of them I had to leave because duty called.”  Well, ‘fair share’ may have been an exaggeration.  He was in a relationship with Elita-1, but that ended… tragically.  From there he’d been in a couple of relationships, but they usually petered off and ended with them parting because his partners always said he ‘was more interested in his duties than he’d ever be in another person.’  The last one had been Tracks, Elita-1’s best friend in the Academy.  It had been as awkward as one would think, even all these millennia later, and they agreed to pretend it’d never happened.

“Oh,” the words that should have been encouraging only seemed to make Jetstorm more nervous.  He began chewing on the tip of his fore-servo as he looked anywhere but at his superior.  “Well… then how do I be making him do the noticing of me?  I am meaning, he is knowing I am here, but… he is not looking at me like I am wanting.”

“Well, I guess first you have to find out if he’s interested in a relationship.  Do you know?”

“I am trying to find out, but he is being difficult,” Jetstorm said.  He sounded a bit frustrated at the words.  Well, Sentinel could understand that.  It took him nearly a decade to get Elita-1’s attention.

“Have you tried asking him outright?” the Prime asked.

“I am trying, but I am being nervous.  His position is making me… anxious.  I am not sure this is being appropriate.”

Sentinel raised his optic ridge again.  “Oh, so it’s someone in a position of power over you?” he deduced.  That… didn’t really narrow it down, as the twins weren’t even considered citizens anymore since they were reprogrammed into weapons.  Still, it could certainly complicate things.  “There aren’t any rules against relationships with other members of the Elite Guard, even if there’s a position gap.  You shouldn’t worry about that, at the very least.”

“Really?” Jetstorm seemed to relax a bit at the words.

“Yeah, don’t let that scare you off.  You wouldn’t be the first bot in a relationship with someone higher rank than you.  Like… let’s take me for an example.  I’m in a higher position of power over you, but that shouldn’t make you think you couldn’t be bonded to me.  I don’t care what position you’re in, even if I’m on top of it, so to speak.”

“O-oh…” Jetstorm’s faceplate was turning a brilliant color of crimson, and it occurred to Sentinel that using himself as an example was probably making him uncomfortable.  “I… I mean… I will be keeping that in processor… that you are on top of me… I am meaning I am in a position under… I mean… I… I must be going!  Thanking to you, Sentinel Prime, sir!”  The blue and yellow flier saluted and retreated quickly, not looking at the Prime anymore.

As soon as the door slid back closed, Sentinel stared at the spot Jetstorm had been in a bit baffled.  That was a strange reaction, even if using himself as an example of a relationship for Jetstorm may have been a bit awkward.

Well, whoever this mech was that Jetstorm wanted to ask out was, he was sure things would be fine.  Jetstorm was a very energetic young bot, but he was also very considerate.  His bravado was mostly show, and he didn’t let it get in the way of being the best Autobot possible.

Also, he realized from Jetstorm’s sudden bout of nervous hesitation over the subject, he was actually very cute.  When he was anxious his poses and mannerisms suddenly turned very shy, half-hugging himself to calm himself down and chewing on his servo.  It was strange considering one of his subordinates to be endearing, but Jetstorm definitely was.  His sudden embarrassment at the end was still baffling, but he long since gave up trying to figure out young bots.

Sentinel finally shook the thinking out of his helm and went back to his paperwork.

 

()()()()()

 

Jetstorm marched down the hall and straight to the room he shared with his brother.  His faceplate burned, and his interface panel reflected it with an intensity that made him glad their quarters were rather secluded from everyone else’s.  Otherwise the heat from his EM field alone would let anyone passing by know how utterly _turned on_ that had made him.  And that wasn’t _fair_.

The door opened and Jetstorm stepped through and quickly pressed the button closing it, leaning against the metal barrier between them and the outside world.

“So, how is it going?” Jetfire asked, though judging by his expression he could already tell.

“It is being _impossible_!” Jetstorm groaned the last syllable as he let his interface panel klik open and expose his overheating valve.  His hands immediately went to work, rubbing anterior node with one while the other plunged two servos inside.  He sunk to the floor as his legs gave out, moaning loudly in self-pleasure.  He pinched and rubbed the anterior node between his servos while he fingered himself.  “It felt so easy until I am standing in office with him,” he panted out.  “And then is suddenly… impossible… he is so _wonderful_ , and I am just… I am just _me_.  And I choked and we just talked.  He is not even knowing how much I was wanting to do it… wanting to crawl over desk and… and…”

While Jetstorm spoke, Jetfire stood from the berth and walked over, amused.  He knelt in front of his brother and tilted his helm back, kissing his lip components.  “I am knowing he is wonderful.  Is why we are doing this, yes?” he said, trailing his servos down his twin’s chestplate and stomach, moving his servos from their work.  At the groan of annoyance, he replaced them quickly, using his fore-servo to circle the anterior node slowly.  “You are trying to being too direct.  Seduction must being slow and steady…”  He kissed down Jetstorm’s jaw and neck, following the trail his fingers had made.  He kissed and licked until he was just over where his hand moved from circling to rubbing the node up and down, occasionally giving it a quick flicking-slap with the servo that made Jetstorm cry out lightly.  Instead of his mouth joining his servos, though, he shifted to the side, lifting Jetstorm’s leg over his shoulder and licking slowly up the inside of his thigh.

“Brother, stop teasing!” Jetstorm whined, valve leaking lubricant in torturous pleasure.

“No, brother, teasing is what I am to be doing,” Jetfire grinned, kissing and nipping at the wires between Jetstorm’s leg and interface panel.  “Being direct is not working, yes?  So I be teasing him until he _must_ touching me.”

He emphasized his point by moving his own servos this time, but replacing them quickly with his mouth.  His lip components latched over the anterior node and sucked on it, tongue flicking and circling it.  The servos that had been working it over moved to the opening of his brother’s valve, pushing three servos in roughly.

“ _Ah_ ~!  Brother!”  Jetstorm grasped the back of Jetfire’s helm and held tight, bucking his hips forward and the servos inside of him further in.  Their bond with each other quickly told them the perfect rhythm to follow, and he rolled his hips in time with the thrusting servos and swirling glossa.  “Is… so… good…” he panted.

After a few cycles of this Jetfire pulled back and shifted himself so he was leaning over the wall-slouched figure of his brother.  Jetstorm was so engrossed in the pleasure he was receiving he didn’t even notice that Jetfire had pressurized his own spike during it.  He’d been stroking it with his free hand to make sure it was fully pressurized.  “Am telling you, brother,” Jetfire murmured as he lined himself up with Jetstorm’s dripping valve, “Needing to do it right, is all.”  With the words he pushed forward, burying himself in Jetstorm’s valve.

“Ah… aaah~!” Jetstorm couldn’t muster words from the feeling of having his valve finally filled, the hard spike pushing and massaging the sensitive nodes inside of him as it thrust in and out quickly.  Every thrust from Jetfire’s hips drove it deeper, trying to reach that all-important node that drove every bot over the edge so easily.

The first time the twins had engaged in interfacing with each other, they’d become worried that something was wrong with them.  After all, they were brothers.  They hadn’t been raised in an environment where that held too much meaning, twins being such a rare occurrence across Cybertron that most people didn’t understand what they were or how they worked.  It wasn’t until they’d been weaponized, that they met Perceptor and Red Alert, that they were assured that such things were perfectly normal.  As twins, they already naturally shared a bond similar to, yet very different from, sparkbonding.  Thus despite being two completely different mechs at spark, they naturally were drawn to doing anything and everything together.  This included pleasure.  Wheeljack had made the rather crass joke as his input that they were lucky.  They’d never be lacking in a frag if they ever needed one.

As embarrassing as a joke as that had been (Perceptor and Red Alert had both hit him for it), it was also very true.  They knew each other’s chassis inside and out, knew what each loved to have done to give them the most pleasure.  They still wanted to become bonded to other bots, not just each other, but it made for good relief when they were completely revved up.

Jetstorm liked being fragged quick and hard, they’d discovered.  He grasped his brother’s shoulderplates as their hips clanged together rapidly, leaning heavily back on the door he still sat against.  His legs hooked over Jetfire’s upper arms as the other twin thrust desperately into him.  He didn’t dare move his own hips, afraid he’d throw off Jetfire’s rhythm this time.  They both vented hard as Jetfire leaned forward, kissing his brother open-mouthed, glossas entangling.

All at once in one of the thrusts, a surge of pleasure burst and rushed through Jetstorm’s systems as he felt his valve give a small rush of lubricant.  His brother had hit his ceiling node, causing him to cry out and cling tighter.  At the sign that he was in the right place, Jetfire set to work hitting and massaging that node with his spike as best he could.  Neither of their spikes were big enough to do so without work, but it was worth it as he felt Jetstorm’s valve clench and tighten around his spike from the treatment.

“Ah!  Ah!  Yes!  Frag, yes!  Brother!  _Brother_!  I’m going to… to…”

“No, not brother.  Saying his name.  I am wanting to hear you saying it…” Jetfire panted out, not slowing his rapid thrusts.  “Saying it as you are overloading…”

Jetstorm wrapped his arms around Jetfire’s neck and pulled him down so he could scream it in his audial receptors.  A few kliks of having his ceiling node beaten by his brother and wishing without guilt it wasn’t him who was doing so, he cried out as overload crashed over him, “ _Sentinel Prime, sir_ ~!  _Aaaahh_ ~!”  Lubricant rushed from his valve and around his brother’s spike as he cried out the object of both of their affections’ name.  He felt Jetfire thrust a couple more times while he overloaded before following, filling his brother with his transfluid.

“Aaaah… brother…” Jetfire groaned and grunted as he overloaded, pinning Jetstorm to the door and kissing his helm as he emptied the last squirts of fluid inside of his now wet, sticky valve.

The two young mechs took a moment to vent heavily, trying to regain composure of their overheated bodies.  Jetfire finally pushed himself away from the door and his brother, a trail of transfluid and lubricant following in his wake.  He took another deep vent and smiled in self-satisfaction.  “I am not thinking you have been so desperate for fragging in long time, brother.”

Jetstorm huffed in embarrassed frustration, trying to get to his feet and failing.  He gave up and sank back down, deciding to wait until he could feel his legs again.  “Yes, well, when you are failing and coming back with nothing but hot, achy valve, then is being my turn to frag you.”

Jetfire laughed and more successfully pushed himself standing, not bothering to close his interface panel until he’d cleaned up in the nearby washroom.  After all, he’d just have to reopen it anyway.  “Is not happening, because I am going to be seducing Sentinel Prime, sir.”  He turned and winked over his shoulderplate.  “I will leaving you cleanser for when you can walk.”


	3. Jetfire Tries to be Subtle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jetfire tries subtlety. It goes as well as you think.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> *crashes through the ceiling and lands on the ground* I'm still alive! Sorry, sorry, SORRY this chapter took so long! I've done that thing where I stretched myself too thin and it's hard to get anything done now! Especially you, V-Bird, I just feel awful!

The next solar was a break period for Sentinel’s charges.  He gave them one every orbital cycle, just so they wouldn’t consider him a complete tyrant.  The Prime didn’t give himself many breaks, but instead used the time to check in on the repairs to the damage the twins inevitably caused during their training.  The two tended to be far too rambunctious, even for young models like them.  And when the Jettwins got rambunctious, for some unfathomable reason things just tended to get blown up.

He was passing by the training rooms, tapping at the datapad he held detailing the damages.  He only really paused when he realized there was a voice coming from one of them.  Well, voice wasn’t quite right.  Grunting was more accurate.  This was odd, as no one was supposed to be in that solar.  Perhaps Jazz was in practicing his cyber martial arts.  The ninjabot did tend to spend a lot of time expending his energy through rigorous training exercises, which was unexpected from the usually laid-back mech.

Sentinel huffed, opening the door.  If it really _was_ Jazz on his solar off, he needed to find a better use for that energy.

Perhaps, the Prime thought while snickering, he should just tell him to go get ‘faced.

As Sentinel was about to say something along the lines when the door slid open, he was forced to stop before saying anything that inappropriate.  Because it wasn’t Jazz in there.  It was Jetfire.

The orange and white flier was sitting on the ground, legs splayed out on either side of him.  He reached forward between them, his chestplate almost touching the ground.

 _Wow_ , the young mech was flexible.

Wait.  Where was the other twin?

Sentinel looked around warily as he walked into the training room, watching for any wayward-flying Jetstorms.  No, not a sign of the blue and black twin was anywhere.  Jetfire was alone, much like Jetstorm had been the solar before.

“You twins having problems?” he asked, approaching the stretching mech.

Jetfire looked up in surprise, pushing himself up.  He didn’t bring his legs together, though.  “What are you meaning, Sentinel Prime, sir?” he asked inquisitively.  He leaned to his right, grabbing his pede with both hands and pulling with a light grunt.

Sentinel watched in fascination.  He didn’t even know waist-joints were able to bend that way, let alone the ones that attached their legs.  “Oh, just… I’ve never seen you two apart before.  Now I’ve seen both you and your brother alone, two solars in a row.”

“Oh,” Jetfire let go of his pede and shrugged before repeating the procedure with his left.  “We are doing the arguing the other solar.  Is no big deal, we are simply needing some space between us.”

“I see.  I guess when you spend all your time together you can get pretty tired of it, huh?  That why you’re here?  Put some ‘space between you’?”

“Exactly,” Jetfire smiled, righting himself again.  It melted into a bit of a sulk, though, and he leaned forward again, this time casually propping his elbows on the ground with his chin in his servos.  “There is being one tiny problem, though.  We are usually doing the stretching together, to be helping.  I cannot be stretching proper without partner.”

Sentinel looked at his datapad of damage, then back to the hopeful look on the flier’s faceplate.  He had a lot to get done, but… aw, what the pit?  Jazz kept saying he should try and do something to bond with the twins.  Helping Jetfire do some stretches wouldn’t hurt, and he could help him do it fast.  “Sure, I’ll help you,” he conceded.

“Yes!”  Instead of sitting up again, Jetfire pushed himself onto his hands.  He brought his legs, still splayed, up over himself into a split-handstand.  He then brought his legs together and bent them along with his elbows, springing himself off his hands and onto his feet, right-side up.  “I mean… thanking you very much, Sentinel Prime, sir!” he corrected himself as soon as he was standing straight, saluting.

Sentinel shook his helm, putting his datapad to the side and walking over to the waiting flier.  “Alright, how do you want to do this?” he asked.

“Leg stretches,” Jetfire answered.  “We are flying much in robot mode.  Requires much use of legs because jets are inside.”  To demonstrate he activated the jets in his pedes, hovering for a moment before dropping himself.

“Alright, so we want to loosen your legs, got it,” Sentinel nodded.  “How do you usually do it?”

“We usually are doing the starting with back and waist stretching,” Jetfire answered, walking up to stand in front of him.  He held out his hands in front of himself, waiting.

Sentinel raised an optic, but took them in his own.  As soon as he had a good grip on them, Jetfire spread his legs shoulder-length on the floor, bracing himself as he suddenly dipped backwards.  He bridged his entire back, nearly folding himself in half.

Holy _frag_.  Where did all this flexibility come from?  Sentinel suddenly started thinking he needed to start putting more difficult reflexivity exercises in their training.  With how much Jetfire could twist himself, he should have no problem dodging obstacles whatsoever.

After thirty kliks like that, the white and orange twin righted himself, venting.  “That was feeling good,” he admitted, smiling.  “Now, I am to be stretching the right leg. Pleasing to be holding still.”

Before Sentinel could ask what he had in mind, Jetfire’s right leg came up.  _All_ the way up.  His pede reached Sentinel’s shoulder, heel resting there.  “Seriously, were you created this freakishly bendy?” the blue and yellow prime found himself asking without being able to stop himself.

Jetfire laughed, holding his hands out on either side of his leg for Sentinel to grab again.  When the Prime did, he once again leaned himself backwards.  “Not mostly, no.  Jetstorm and I weren’t being made for anything like this,” he explained, grunting as he pushed his leg against the older mech.  “When we are being made into the weapons, Red Alert, ma’am, redesigned our joints.  Perceptor, sir, he is saying that fliers require better flexibility to maneuver in ways ground-based ones cannot.”

“Really?” Sentinel asked in surprise.  Less at the logic behind that, because it made sense.  More that Jetfire both remembered and understood all of it.  He was much smarter than the Prime had thought.

“Yes,” Jetfire answered.  He brought his leg down, replacing it with the other one and repeating the exercise.  “Red Alert, ma’am, is saying that our joints are very… ‘fickle’ I am thinking was what she is saying.  If we do not stretching them ourselves, they will go stiff.”  He pulled himself back up, but didn’t bring his leg down yet.  He simply looked at Sentinel and asked, “Are you liking my flexibility, Sentinel Prime, sir?”

Sentinel reset his optics.  “Well, yeah,” he answered.  “I mean, this is going to make your training a lot easier, now that I know about it.”

The younger mech gave him an odd look, something akin to how Jetstorm had looked at him the previous solar in his office.  He then brought his leg down.  “Yes, that is being the good,” he said, suddenly sounding less confident than he was before.  Sentinel wasn’t sure why, as he had just complimented him.  Perhaps he was starting to have doubts that he was stretching properly, since he just learned how important this could be in his combat training.

“Hey, why don’t I show you a better way you can stretch when you two are doing it?” the Prime suggested, not wanting Jetfire to feel uncomfortable about it.

“Okie-for-dokie,” Jetfire smiled again, saluting.

“Here, sit down on the floor.”  When the twin did as he was told, sitting down and looking interestedly at the Prime, Sentinel knelt down in front of him.  “This is how we used to stretch in pairs at the academy.  It’ll probably be a lot more effective for you two, since you can get your legs further.”

Sentinel grabbed Jetfire by the left pede, and leaned him back until the twin was lying on his back.  “Keep your other leg on the ground, it’s not effective if you bend it.”  To aid that, Sentinel moved to sit with one leg on Jetfire’s right leg, pinning it down.  He then leaned his upper body weight on the left pede, pushing it and with it Jetfire’s leg up towards his chestplate.  As he thought, the leg managed to bend all the way until it was flesh against the front of his chassis.  Jetfire’s foot was above his own helm, Sentinel’s hand still grasping his ankle.  To keep his balance, he had to put his other hand on the floor on the other side of Jetfire’s helm.

“Um…” Jetfire seemed completely speechless, swallowing hard.  He probably didn’t even know he could stretch this far, as they weren’t doing this properly before.

“I know, I’m surprised you can go this far, too,” Sentinel grinned.  “I bet if I tried I could get both of your pedes over your helm.  Mind you, if I did you’d be completely at my mercy.  Not much chance of you escaping being in that kind of position.”

Jetfire’s faceplate flushed a bit, and he began stuttering.  “Oh… uh, well…” he managed, looking away from his superior.

Sentinel tilted his helm to the side.  Perhaps being in this position too long was making Jetfire’s energon rush to his helm.  Just to be safe, he let him go.  “You want me to do your other leg?”

The orange and white mech shook his helm quickly, scooting out from under him.  “I am… remembering something I have to be doing!” he said quickly, scrambling to his pedes.  “Thanking you, Sentinel Prime, sir!  If… if brother is not here again, I would not be minding you doing me.  Helping me!  I would not be minding you helping me.  You can putting me in all kinds of… um… positions…”  He saluted again and ran for the door.  “Excusing me, sir!”

Sentinel stood up and raised an optic ridge.  _Both_ of the twins were acting odd around him lately.  Was he doing something wrong?  Making them nervous?

He hoped not.  They were both very good kids.  He was starting to think he wouldn’t mind spending more time around them.  Like with Jetstorm, Sentinel couldn’t help but dwell on how uniquely… cute Jetfire was.

The Prime thought back on the awkward conversation he’d had with Jetstorm and the revelation the two were having a falling out.  He came to a realization.

Could it be that the twins… _liked_ the same person?  That would certainly explain their strange behavior.

Well, no matter for now.  Sentinel still had his rounds to finish.

Maybe he’d ask Jazz later, though.

 

()()()()()

 

“Brother!”

Jetstorm nearly jumped out of his protomesh at the desperate sound of his twin as he opened the door.  Jetfire closed it as soon as he was inside, looking nowhere near as confident as he had when he left.  The blue and black twin smirked, sitting up on the berth.  “Is not as easy as looks, is it, brother?” he asked, opening his arms.  He wasn’t going to extend the same courtesy to his brother as he’d had.  Jetfire would have to come to him if he wanted help with the heat radiating so fiercely from him that he could feel it from the berth.

Jetfire, thanks to the nature of his abilities, ran hotter in everything.  This was definitely on that long list.  He managed to impressively make it all the way to the berth before his legs gave out, collapsing onto it and into Jetstorm’s arms.  “How can he being so sexy and not know it?” Jetfire gasped as he opened his valve panel, moaning at the rush of cold air against his overheated valve.

“I am knowing, brother,” Jetstorm said sympathetically.  He reached between the orange and white twin’s legs, shoving two servos into his already dripping valve.

Jetfire moaned and bucked his hips, forcing the servos deep into himself.  His valve dribbled lubricant down Jetstorm’s hand and onto the berth.  “I am wanting him to frag me so badly…” he vented and rolled his hips.

“I am knowing…” Jetstorm repeated, pulling his servos out and shoving them back in.  He grasped Jetfire’s shoulder with his free hand, pushing him onto his back.  He repeated the gesture of servo-fragging his valve, moving between his brother’s legs.  “But I am also remembering a promise I made when I came back yestersolar.”

“ _Please_ , brother,” Jetfire vented heavily, spreading his legs wide.  “If I can’t having him, I am wanting you…”

Jetstorm licked his lip components at the sound of the words, leaning forward and kissing his twin.  The orange and white brother’s personality had done a complete flip from when he’d fragged Jetstorm the solar before.  That was simply who he was, though.  When he was inside his brother, Jetfire was in control of himself.  But something about being the one whose valve was dripping with lubricant caused him to practically melt.  He completely submitted himself, which was strangely erotic.  Even his twin found Jetfire even more irresistible than usual when he was like this.

So Jetstorm didn’t tease his brother like Jetfire had done to him yestersolar.  He pressurized his spike and used the hand he’d been fingering Jetfire with to stroke it, the wetness of the lubricant helping it fully pressurize.  He leaned forward again, covering his twin’s mouth and pushing himself inside the hot, dripping valve before him.  Unlike with himself, Jetfire loved slow, gentle interfacing.  Instead of desperate, quick thrusts, Jetstorm sheathed himself and ground forward and down.  Rolls of the hips that moved his spike inside just enough to make Jetfire moan and vent, his optics rolling back at the feeling.

Jetfire curled his arms around Jetstorm’s neck and shoulders, kissing him back.  He opened his mouth and allowed his brother’s glossa to curl around his own.  His legs wrapped around Jetstorm’s hips and waist, encouraging him to begin actual thrusting.

Jetstorm didn’t waste any time, pulling his spike out halfway before pushing it back in slowly.  Jetfire’s back arched as he moaned loudly, reveling in the steady pressure that lit up the circuits inside of his overheating valve.  There was no concern for whether or not Jetstorm would reach his ceiling node, as his thrusts were much too slow for that anyway.  But just the feeling of being fragged so tenderly drove Jetfire to the brink as Jetstorm repeated the process.  In fact, Jetfire had never felt anything touch his ceiling node, didn’t know that feeling of complete ecstasy, as his brother was the only experience he had.

Because of this, love-making with Jetfire as the valve took much more time and patience.  Though Jetstorm did steadily increase the pace and strength of his thrusts, they never reached the sloppy, desperate rutting that they did for him.  To make up for being unable to reach his ceiling node, Jetstorm’s right hand rested between them, servos rubbing and massaging Jetfire’s anterior node in time with his thrusts.

As Jetstorm’s mouth moved from Jetfire’s to his neck, kissing and nipping at the wires there, the orange and white twin panted and moaned.  “Brother…” he managed, valve tightening around his twin’s spike in anticipation.  “I’m going to… I am having to…”  The feeling of his brother’s spike inside of him, his servos massaging his node, and his glossa making patterns on his neck cables was too much.

“I am knowing, brother,” Jetstorm whispered, barely even slowing his ministrations.  He licked up to Jetfire’s audial.  “Just like with me.  Not brother.  Saying who we are desiring.”

“S-Sentinel Prime, sir…” Jetfire moaned as he felt himself peaking.  His valve tightened around his brother’s spike and he cried out this time as he overloaded, lubricant coating their arrays.  “Sentinel Prime, sir!  Yes!  Aa~ah!”

Jetstorm stilled himself while his brother overloaded, though it wasn’t enough to drive him over the edge.  He wrapped his arms around Jetfire’s limp, exhausted chassis after he finished, pulling him against his own body and thrusting harder and faster than Jetfire liked for his own pleasure.  The orange and white twin whimpered but didn’t stop him, knowing it wasn’t fair to deny him his own overload.

Jetstorm spent a few cycles pounding into his brother’s overstimulated valve, secretly relishing in the twitches and light moans Jetfire made.  It was wrong of him, he knew, but it was enough to finally drive him over the crest and bury his spike inside of Jetfire and empty his transfluid into him.  He held tight to his brother, grunting and groaning as his fluids filled the other twin.

When he was done, Jetstorm pulled out of his brother and pushed himself to collapse next to him on the berth.  He looked at Jetfire, whose golden optics met his visor.  The blue and yellow twin exvented.  “What is we doing?”

“Being stupid,” Jetfire answered sheepishly, turning over and snuggling into his brother’s side.  “We should not be doing the fighting over anyone.  Even Sentinel Prime, sir.”

“If he is wanting of one of us, he will need to taking both,” Jetstorm agreed, running a hand down Jetfire’s faceplate before kissing it.

“Or neither at all,” Jetfire nodded.

The truth was that the twins, despite their quarreling, loved each other more than anything in the world.  Even more than Sentinel Prime.  They were two halves of the same whole, no matter how many differences actually existed there.  Jazz called them “yin and yang.”  Two opposites that needed each other to survive.

Dark and light.

Hot and cold.

“We will tell Sentinel Prime, sir, tomorrow,” Jetfire spoke up again.

“Yes, tomorrow,” Jetstorm agreed again, shuttering his optics.  They were both exhausted and needed a rest.  “Together.”

“Together.”  Jetfire snuggled more comfortably, and the two drifted into recharge.


End file.
